


Let Me In

by FawnChara



Category: Jacksepticeye RPF, Markiplier RPF, Septiplier RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Anti - Freeform, Blackouts, Blood, Death, Demonic Possession, Emetophobia, Forced Drug Use, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Murder, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Paranoia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suspense, Talk of Mental Disorders, Violence, aka jack thinking he going crazy, insignificant character death, memory problems, minor injury, piecings, robin is a good friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FawnChara/pseuds/FawnChara
Summary: He practically jumped out of his chair as he spun around, headphones snagging on his microphone and other equipment as he looked anxiously behind him. His room remained empty. Silent. Heart hammering in his chest, Jack let out a nervous laugh. He must be tired. Yeah, tired. That’s why he was hearing someone call his name in a voice that sounded so uncomfortably like his own.- - -It had been really fun to build Anti up for the whole Halloween takeover event, but that was over and done with. So why the  hell  was Jack hearing voices now?





	1. Stately Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Chara back at it again with yet another Septiplier story. This one will feature Anti! As always, please read and enjoy. 
> 
> Content warning for this chapter: hearing voices and mild injury
> 
> Chapter title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1P6CM8gQsg). 

It scared the fuck out of him the first time it happened.

 

Jack had been sitting at his workspace, recording a playthrough of  _ The Last Guardian.  _ Everything was normal, him cracking jokes and remarking on the beauty and detail of the game he was playing, and then he  _ heard it. _

 

_ “Seán.” _

 

He practically jumped out of his chair as he spun around, headphones snagging on his microphone and other equipment as he looked anxiously behind him. His room remained empty. Silent. Heart hammering in his chest, Jack let out a nervous laugh. He must be tired. Yeah, tired. That’s why he was hearing someone call his name in a voice that sounded so uncomfortably like his own. 

 

Sitting back down, Jack untangled his headphones where the music from his game continued to blast. He frowned. Despite the headphones covering both his ears, the voice had sounded so perfectly clear. So  _ close,  _ as though it was whispered directly to him. That thought made Jack shift in his chair warily as he bit his lip.

 

He paused his game, switching over to his recording screen and stopping that as well. He was a little too unsettled to continue recording at the moment. Writing himself a sticky note, Jack reminded himself to clip this part of the recording out before handing the footage to Robin for proper editing. There was no sense in freaking out his new editor and friend with something like this.

 

He clicked over to his Tumblr feed, deciding on answering some asks for the time being. His inbox was flooded with comments and questions, as always, and Jack felt bad if he didn’t at least try to make an effort and respond to a few every day. After getting replying to a dozen or so asks, many being questions or compliments being related to the ‘Anti’ persona he had made, Jack idly scrolled through his dash. Much of it was fanart of his fantasy darker half, and Jack chuckled. The fandom had really taken to Anti, it seemed. He reblogged a few artworks, one being a Jack clutching onto his bleeding, septic eye as tears streamed from his face, and another being a Jack with a slit throat, eyes nothing but empty sockets. The second piece was incredibly well drawn, the coloring very realistic. It made him shiver, though he was proud that his fans liked him enough to put this much effort into fanart for him.

 

Jack glanced out the window to the far right as light faded from the room. It was getting dark already, despite it only being just after seven at night. He had gotten a lot of work done that day, and he was already getting tired. He figured he should stay up a bit longer, and maybe get to chat with Mark in the process. Because of the vast difference between the time zones, Jack only ever got to talk with Mark either very early in the morning or very late at night. It was usually worth it to stay up late to get to talk with the other YouTuber, reassuring Mark that sleep was for the weak so he shouldn’t worry about Jack staying up so late. That always made Mark chuckle.

 

Realizing Jack had just been sitting at his desk, mind wandering silently for the past few minutes, Jack pushed away from his workspace with a sigh. He switched off his equipment, fully intent on making some hot chocolate to try and relax for the rest of the evening. He started the trek down the stairs, heading to the kitchen when he heard it again.

 

_ “Seán!”  _

 

It was a yell this time. Jack startled, socked foot slipping out from under him on the last couple of steps as he was sent down. He fell backwards, hitting his back against the stairs with a yelp before tumbling forward and smacking his head on the laminate floor. While he hadn’t fallen very far, it still fucking  _ hurt. _ Jack sat up with a wince, back aching as he rubbed the growing lump on his forehead with a grumble. Great. He just  _ had  _ to fall on his face, didn’t he? Judging by the dull throb from his head, Jack would more than likely have a nicely sized bruise in a few short hours. His fans would definitely be worried about that.

 

And then there was laughter, unsettlingly familiar, reminding Jack exactly  _ why  _ he fell in the first place. He stiffened instinctively, heart thrumming unevenly in his chest as his blood ran cold. The laughter was sharp and downright  _ menacing _ , echoing all around him. His hands flew up to cover his ears as Jack curled in on himself, trying in vain to block out the rising noise. 

 

As abruptly as it had started up the laughter ceased, though Jack held his position, curled up on the floor. He was breathing heavily through his nose, teeth tightly clenched in a grimace, entire body trembling slightly. He was absolutely terrified. Sure, he had been scared before, while playing a particularly good horror game in the past, or even the time he went to a local haunted house at Halloween with some friends a couple years back. This was nothing like that. This was true fear, and the uncertainty that came with it made his stomach tighten with nerves.

 

As the silence swirled around him, Jack gradually felt his heartbeat slow to something of a more normal pace, and he released the death grip he had on his ears. He looked around his apartment slowly, as though something would pop out at him at any moment. Logically, Jack knew nothing was there. He must just be tired,  _ extremely tired  _ to be hearing things as he did. There was no other explanation for this.

 

His mind thought back yet again to this past Halloween as he had played up his ‘Anti’ persona and snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. He had pretended to hear voices in his videos then, putting on a show as he turned around to the obviously empty room and spoke directly to the camera, asking  _ “Did you hear that?”  _ though there had been no audible sound. His current situation strongly reminded him of that, but Jack pushed the thought away. He wasn’t hearing voices in his head, he wasn’t going crazy. No way. He was just tired.

 

With the single thought of  _ sleep  _ in his mind, Jack heaved himself to his feet, bracing his arm on the wall to keep steady. His vision spun briefly and Jack winced again. Damn, his head really took a beating. With a sigh, Jack began the process of climbing the stairs, this time holding tightly to the railing. No way was he going to chance falling again. Once in his bedroom, Jack switched on the television for background noise, paying no mind to it. It was good to have the white noise in the background, as it provided something of a distraction for him.

 

He played with the idea of getting some more work done so he could stay up and talk to Mark again later, but when a wave of nausea hit him Jack reluctantly shrugged the thought off. He had already gotten a lot of work done that day, and had even been in the process of recording another episode of  _ The Last Guardian  _ to be released later that week, so Jack figured he should take it easy and get some sleep instead. He definitely seemed to be needing it.

 

His limbs were heavy, weighed down in such a way as though Jack had done an intense workout for the past few hours. His back was aching in several places from where he had smashed it against the stairs. And his head was throbbing with an upcoming headache, most likely the result of cracking it on the floor. He almost couldn’t keep his eyes open, too exhausted to try and do anything else.

 

Sighing heavily, Jack climbed into bed, settling himself underneath the covers.

 

Sleep did not come easily for him that night.

 


	2. Everything Must Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things only get worse for Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mQW3fxJcUc). 

Jack could tell that he had overslept.

 

It was bright in his room, the light filtering through his plain curtains brighter than normal mornings. Jack shot awake with a start, only to curl in on himself with a gasp of pain. If he had felt bad the night before, he was absolutely feeling _horrible_ now. His entire body was sore and aching in odd places, and his brief tumble down the stairs couldn’t quite cover it. And curiously, Jack still felt exhausted, as though he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. He was now more tired than when he had gone to bed in the first place.

 

Glancing to the clock, Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He had less than an hour if he wanted to get his video up on time. He snatched up his phone, where it sat on his side table, trying to figure out why the alarm hadn’t gone off in the first place. The screen remained dark.

 

“Damn it,” Jack swore aloud. He blamed YouTube for making him talk to himself.

 

He fumbled for his charger, trying to plug it in so he could bring his phone back to life. He couldn’t _believe_ that he had forgotten to do so the night before. It was part of his evening ritual before he went to bed to make sure he had everything prepared, including making sure his phone was charging so the alarm could go off in the morning. Jack sighed. Obviously he had been much more tired than he thought to have overlooked something so damn obvious.

 

Jack threw off his covers, eager to get to his recording space to get his video up on time. He almost never missed his schedule, consistently uploading his videos like clockwork, and feeling a bit under the weather was no excuse to be late. He had said as much in his videos, reassuring his fans that even if he was in a sour mood or felt like crap, he would still do his best to provide quality content. He had no intentions of going back on that promise, especially with the start of the new year.

 

He swayed briefly once on two feet, a sudden rush of nausea overcoming him, but ultimately he shrugged it off. He made it to the bathroom, cringing when he saw his appearance in the mirror. The entire portion of his left face, extending from his brow to his hairline, was covered in a darkening bruise. The dark reddish hue was a stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin, and Jack sighed. There was no way to ignore it or brush it off. It was way too noticeable.

 

He quickly splashed water on himself, being particularly gentle around the bruise, as Jack hurried to get ready. Normally he’d make himself a pot of coffee first thing upon waking, but there was simply no time for that now. He practically staggered out of his bathroom across the hall to his office, sitting heavily down in his swivel chair. Jack booted up his monitors, and upon seeing the email from Robin with the edited version of the video he had sent him the previous day, Jack sent a silent prayer of thanks to his editor. Robin truly was a blessing, and with him taking some of the burden from Jack, it freed up a lot of extra time for him. Plus, it just made things easier in general.

 

Jack looked over the fifteen minute video, double-checking it to make sure it flowed well and there were no errors before uploading it. He repeated the process for the second video, only queueing it to upload a couple hours after the first. Jack then set about to record a new video, slightly hesitant. While his videos for that day would have the normal Jack, the videos he would record for tomorrow would feature a bruised-up Jack. He knew Robin was sure to ask about it, and Jack would just have to shrug it off and chalk it up to him being a clumsy loaf. His fans, however, would be a much different story. He remembered how things blew up for Marina Joyce when people thought abuse was a factor for her. Jack shivered. He hoped that nothing like that would happen. After all, it was just a minor mishap on the stairs. That was normal, right? It happened.

 

With a reluctant sigh, Jack booted up _Subnautica_ and started his recording. It was best to just get these types of things over with.

 

* * *

 

Robin had messaged Jack back not two minutes after he sent the recorded footage of _Subnautica._

 

He hadn’t really wanted to reply, but there was no way to avoid it. He just wasn’t quite sure what to say. Apparently Jack was taking too long to answer, if the jingle of the Skype call was anything to go by. The tune gave Jack a start, who after a brief moment of hesitation, clicked on the little green icon.

 

“What the hell happened to your face, Jack?” Well, it seemed like Robin wanted to get straight to the point, then.

 

Jack rolled his eyes, trying not to bite back a reply. His friend was just worried, after all. “It’s Seán, dick.” That earned a small laugh from the other, as the two often joked about what to call Jack. “Anyways, I’m fine. If you had watched the first minute of the video you would have heard the explanation I gave to the fans.”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s the explanation for the fans,” Robin reasoned easily, “I wanted to hear it from you.”

 

And that had Jack sighing. He had gone over it rather quickly on the recording, not wanting to get too into the details. Robin deserved a proper explanation. “It’s nothing, really.” That didn’t mean Jack was _going_ to give Robin a proper explanation. “Just fell down my stairs.”

 

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Robin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me. How did that even happen?”

 

Jack bit his lip, not wanting to breach the subject of how Jack had been hearing voices. Well, voice, really. Singular. Only one voice. Still, that wasn’t something he wanted to advertise with his friends. “I just re-waxed my stairs last weekend, and my socks slipped on the wood,” Jack lied quickly, though he looked off to the side, not able to meet his friend’s concerned gaze.

 

Robin seemed to buy it, leaning back in his own chair with a sigh. “Damn, Seán. Be more careful.”

 

“I will,” Jack said in a small voice, heart clenching. Robin was too nice to him.

 

After the call Jack headed downstairs, removing his socks beforehand out of nerves. He hadn’t heard any voices since waking up, which was good, meaning that the sleep had definitely helped. Still, he could never be too careful. He’d rather not go tumbling down his stairs again. In the kitchen, Jack started a pot of coffee and thought about making some toast and eggs. Though it technically wasn’t breakfast anymore, Jack wanted to try and do his normal morning routine properly, including his breakfast meal with coffee.

 

The scent of freshly brewed dark roast flooded Jack’s senses, and he relaxed slightly with a sigh. The warmth settled nicely in his body, and Jack hummed pleasantly. He had been so on edge since waking, unsure how to tackle the odd events of the evening prior, though the coffee seemed to help with his nerves, if only slightly. Slightly was still better than none at all, though. Jack felt his eyes drooping, and he quickly set down his mug to keep from dropping it. He was still so damn _tired_ despite sleeping nearly twelve hours. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

 

Whatever appetite Jack had worked up was gone now, which deeply concerned him. Sometimes he got too worked up in his recordings and accidentally skipped a meal, but him just being flat out _not hungry_ was definitely not normal.

 

He grabbed his mug again, heading back upstairs to his recording room to get on with the day, figuring he’d just eat a bigger meal later to compensate for skipping breakfast. A sharp pain flared up in his left eye and Jack doubled over with a cry, the half filled mug of coffee shattering easily on the wooden steps. His hand reached up automatically to cover his eye, tears leaking out from the pain. Jack bit his lip. His eye felt like it was _on fire._

 

He raced up the rest of the stairs, broken coffee mug mess forgotten as he made for the bathroom. Jack wondered briefly if the bruise on that side of his face had anything to do with it but, pushed that thought away. A simple bruise wouldn’t cause pain of this magnitude.

 

In the washroom, Jack ducked his head under the tap, turning it on and splashing water on it as one would do if they got chemicals in their eye. That’s what it felt like to him, anyways, some kind of chemical burn. It was impossible, but the pain was definitely real. The heated sensation began to fade as the water continued to run, and Jack heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what the fuck caused that, but it was damn painful.

 

Turning off the tap, Jack straightened to look at himself in the mirror. He frowned slightly, grabbing a hand towel to dry his face. There was something off about his reflection, he just couldn’t place it. He placed the towel over his full face, giving himself a quick pat down. As he removed it, Jack noticed the way the eyes, _his eyes,_ were watching him so intently. There was a toothy grin on the face in the reflection, one that Jack was sure he wasn’t making.

 

And then the laughing returned, _in his voice,_ the lips in the mirror moving as though they were the source of the laughter. It was loud, ringing, and right in his ears, and all Jack could do was watch in horror as his _own reflection_ was acting as though it were a different being.

 

Jack screamed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin is a good friend. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Anything you wanna see here, let me know.


	3. Vengeance in Cloudland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AiK0H6Kd2E)

 

Jack wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

 

He was laying there, on his bathroom floor on his side, staring blankly at the sink in front of him. At some point he’d apparently passed out, only to wake with yet another lump on his head from the fall to the tiled floor. His entire body was still sore and achy, the uncomfortable feeling only having intensified from earlier. His mouth was dry, as though stuffed with cotton balls. Jack wasn’t quite sure he could move if he tried. It was taking everything out of him just to focus on getting his heart rate back to normal and keeping his breathing steady.

 

The jingle of a Skype call sounded from across the hall, and Jack blinked slowly with recognition. Who could be calling him? 

 

His fingers twitched, the only movement Jack had really done since waking up on the floor. He felt frozen in place, too weak to even get up. The tune cut off abruptly– he had taken too long to answer. Jack’s eyes drooped shut again. He’d deal with it later.

 

Later turned out to be much sooner than he thought, as the ringing immediately started back up again. Whoever it was was insistent. 

 

With renewed interest, Jack summoned all his strength to slowly push himself up on his elbows. His vision swam with the small movement, upper arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up. His nostrils flared as his mouth flooded with saliva suddenly, and Jack recognized it for what it was. Urgently he pulled himself over to the toilet just in time to lean over the seat and vomit into it. Jack gripped at the edge, entire body shaking as he coughed into the bowl, emptying the entirety of the contents of his stomach. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, snot ran down his nose, and a mixture of bile and saliva dripped down his chin. Jack felt disgusting, but continued to heave until there was nothing left to vomit up.

 

Finally he collapsed back onto the floor, chest stuttering with uneven breaths. It had used up a lot of energy to do something as simple as throw up, and that act alone had sapped much of his remaining strength. He reached a quivering arm up and over, snatching up some toilet paper to wipe his face. Might as well try to clean up a bit.

 

As he wiped the fluids from his chin and nose, Jack grumbled in frustration. He had no idea how he ended up on the floor, so void of energy in the first place. The last thing he remembered was drinking some coffee and trying to head back into his recording space–

 

Oh.

 

That’s right.

 

Jack began to shake once more, this time from fear as the memories came flooding back in a rush. He remembered with regretful clarity the burning sensation of his left eye, as though someone had been sticking a flaming rod through it. He remembered the eerie laugh, his own voice so loud and incessant in his ears. And he remembered his reflection, or the person in the mirror who was Jack but at the same time distinctly  _ wasn’t. _

 

The melodic tune of yet another Skype call brought Jack back to the present. Currently it was just him in the room, laying on his back, the sounds of his heavy breathing and the distant jingle of the call being the only audible noises. There was no laugh, no other voice–  _ his voice – _ just Jack. 

 

He hauled himself to a sitting position, ignoring how the movement made his stomach flip uneasily, for he knew he had nothing left to vomit up. Jack grabbed onto the towel rack on his right, using it as a grip to get himself to his feet. Finally upright, Jack leaned heavily on the wall, chest and shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths. His knees shook, legs unsteady beneath him as Jack slowly made his way out of the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the mirror, hands on the wall the entire time to guide himself.

 

Somehow he made it to his recording room without stumbling, plopping down ungracefully into his gaming chair. The screen in front of him was the only light in the room, and Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he realized why the room was so damn dark. 

 

It was  _ night. _

 

With shaking fingers Jack clicked over to Skype, pressing the little green icon to accept the call. Robin’s worried face filled his screen after a brief moment of loading, and Jack’s heart tightened as he realized how much he’d been making his friend worry.

 

“Jack! Are you okay, you haven’t sent me the footage for your second video for tomorrow, and–” Robin cut off his worried rant there, eyes practically bulging as he took in Jack’s appearance. “And  _ fuck. _ You look like shit.”

 

Normally Jack would laugh and roll his eyes to correct the other on his name, but he barely even had the strength to hold himself up properly. “That bad?”

 

Robin merely nodded worriedly, biting his lip. “What the fuck happened?”

 

Jack sighed, lifting a trembling arm to comb through his no doubt messy locks. “I– I don’t know. I think I passed out or somethin’.”

 

“You look like you got hit by a train,” Robin muttered. “No offense,” he added quickly.

 

That earned a tired snort out of Jack. “I feel like I got hit by one, too.”

 

“You know what, and you're probably not going to like hearing this, but, just hear me out,” Robin began, raising a hand of caution up to the webcam.

 

“Jus’ tell me already,” Jack slurred, accent thickening.

 

Robin’s face hardened. “You should  _ probably _ go to the hospital. And by probably I mean you should definitely go to the hospital.”

 

Jack stopped short. Why would he go to the hospital? Just because he was feeling a little more than under the weather? “No way.”

 

“Jack! Just look in a mirror!” Robin said, exasperation leaking into his tone, and Jack tried not to flinch at the mention of a mirror. “You look run down and just plain  _ awful _ . As great as your consistency is for your upload schedule, the fans will understand if it's a medical emergency.”

 

“Look, Robin, I appreciate ‘ta thought,” Jack grumbled, raking a sluggish hand over his surprisingly sweaty face, accent coming in thick from exhaustion. “But this isn't some ‘medical emergency’ or anything like that. ‘M not dying. I just need ‘ta get some sleep.”

 

“Please Jack, at least go get yourself checked out,” Robin insisted. “You said you fell down the stairs, right? You could have a concussion. At the very least go get your head looked at.”

 

Jack had more arguments ready on his tongue but released a defeated sigh instead. It was much easier to just concede than drag their discussion on. “Fine. I'll do that tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you,” Robin said with a sigh himself. 

 

There was silence for a moment then, neither one quite sure what to say.

 

“I should go,” Jack finally voiced after a moment of hesitation. “I'll send you the footage within the hour.”

 

“Alright,” Robin replied, still eyeing Jack warily. 

 

Jack said his goodbyes to Robin then before clicking the red icon, effectively ending the call. He sank back into his chair, dropping his head in his hands with a groan. 

 

What the hell was wrong with him? Everything that had happened in the last two days had been both unexplainable and strange. One part of Jack figured he was having some kind of a mental break from stress, but the pain that had flared up in his eye earlier was _real,_ not just in his head. And the pure exhaustion and shaky feeling that spread throughout his body definitely wasn't normal either. He had been getting plenty of sleep, a little _too_ _much_ from the night before actually, and had no problems getting to sleep in the first place, so why was he so damn _tired?_ And the achy feeling had only been increasing, as though simply functioning had been overly taxing his body. 

 

Alright. So maybe he  _ should _ see a doctor.

 

But that meant admitting that this problem, whatever it was, was too much to handle, that Jack wasn't strong enough to deal with a simple lump on the head and a little fatigue.

 

Jack was promptly reminded that this was more than just a ‘little fatigue’ as his vision shifted and tilted the room around him, forcing him to grab onto his desk for extra support. He bit his lip, letting out a noise of frustration. Why was he so damn weak?

 

_ That’s all you’ve ever been, Seán. Weak. _

 

“Shut up,” Jack muttered aloud, otherwise barely reacting to the voice as it once again echoed in his mind. Somehow, its presence was becoming the new normal. Well, about as normal as hearing voices in one’s head could ever get. 

 

Letting out another sigh, Jack pulled up Steam on his desktop. It was way past time to get to work. He pulled up Happy Room, figuring he could lose himself in the pointless violence of the game and relax for a bit. After a half hour of recording, Jack gathered all the footage and audio files and sent them to Robin. He just hoped his friend wouldn’t be too upset having to work later than normal and edit for him. 

 

Jack sat up straighter in his chair, stretching idly. It was nearing midnight now, and while Jack had managed to get his videos recorded for the next day, somehow he felt as though his entire day had been wasted. He achieved his recording quota, yet the whole passing out thing had distorted his sense of time, making his day pass by in the blink of an eye. 

 

He headed out of his office, scratching the back of his head with a yawn, reminding himself to clean the coffee mess on the stairs after a nap. His vision blurred momentarily before clearing again, and Jack reached out to the wall to steady himself. He blinked a few times, eyes narrowing with worry.

 

“Okay…” Jack mumbled, growing increasingly worried with his newfound dizzy spells. 

 

The hallway blurred again, colors and shapes melding together rapidly and Jack shut his eyes to keep from passing out.

 

When he opened them again, Jack wasn’t in his house anymore. 

 

He looked around wildly, panic rising within him as he took in his new surroundings. 

 

He was in the middle of a forest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happened in this chappie, but it kinda had to happen this way for shit to go down next time. Oops.
> 
> Also, I'm stuck between wanting to make Anti a 'bad guy' that actively tries to hurt/take control of Jack, or if I want him to be like a trickster, playing mind games on Jack and doing stupid things that make Jack sigh with annoyance. Hmm...
> 
> Check me out on [tumblr](http://fawnchara.tumblr.com/)!


	4. In Keyed Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack makes his way home and acknowledges the voice in his head as more than just a voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one to write! Hope you enjoy.  
> Chappie title [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVfwljqtsag)

 

Thankfully he wasn’t too far from a road, as Jack could see streetlamps in the distance and hear the occasional hum of a car as it passed.

 

He took a step, only to feel cool, moist mud under his feet. With a frown, Jack gazed down, squinting through the darkness with a sigh at his bare feet. He shivered slightly, the chilly night air easily cutting through his thin t-shirt. He patted his pockets, hoping to find his phone to call someone, but his hands turned up empty.

 

Jack sighed again, heading off in the direction of the light.

 

While he could spend all night thinking about how the hell he had ended up in the middle of a forest, Jack needed to go home and get some sleep. One part of him argued that he was desensitized to the whole situation as of unexplainable recent events, and therefore not making a big deal of it, but Jack shrugged that thought off. He just felt mentally exhausted and knew he needed to get home.

 

The earthy mixture of mud and dead leaves underfoot made Jack shiver, crossing his arms and rubbing them to try and get warm.

 

And that’s when he felt it.

 

There was something coating his hands, something sticky and liquid like, though it was too hard to make out exactly what it was in the darkness. Still, Jack had an idea of what it was. He could only hope he would be wrong. With a rising sense of urgency Jack began to sprint towards the street lights, eager to find out exactly what was covering his hands and arms.

 

 

He finally made it to the street, a simple two lane asphalt road that lined the edge of the forest. There was a single lamp post, the next one being quite a way off in the distance, and Jack raced up to it, holding his hands up in the fluorescence.

 

Jack’s stomach dropped.

 

His arms were stained dark and crimson with blood.

 

Jack reached out to the lamp, steadying himself on the post as he doubled over and gagged. He coughed harshly, shoulders wracking as he dry heaved, having nothing to vomit up.

 

There was light approaching behind him, and Jack turned to see a car coming up the way. He wanted to reach out to them and ask for help, but Jack knew in his state he’d never get picked up as a hitchhiker. He’d be lucky if the driver didn’t call the cops on him.

 

Quickly Jack made a beeline for the trees again, hiding in the shadows.

 

And then he was angry.

 

He shouldn’t be out here in the countryside, barefoot in the wilderness and covered with drying blood.

 

And that brought up the concern of _why_ he was covered with blood in the first place.

 

Jack turned to the forest behind him, biting his lip in thought. The blood obviously didn’t come from him; he wasn’t injured. Then Jack wondered if there was something else at the site where he had ‘woken up’, like a dead animal or something. “Yeah… probably just an animal,” he murmured in a shaky, unconvincing voice.

 

_Or a person._

 

Jack shivered at the laughing voice echoing inside his head. He was sure the voice was getting a kick out of Jack’s mental struggle and panic.

 

There was simply _no way_ he could have killed someone.

 

Was there?

 

He briefly entertained the thought of going back to the area where he came to again to try and find remains of some sort, but Jack knew it would be impossible. It was way too dark to get his bearings out there, and he had no idea where he’d been in the first place.

 

He glanced back to the road with a sigh and began heading in the direction the car was going, walking just at the edge of the forest to remain hidden enough yet in a position where he could still see the road.

 

The full moon overhead provided some light in the darkness between the lamp posts, and Jack found himself near constantly gazing upwards. The stars were so visible in the country, so bright and plentiful. They relaxed him slightly, and reminded Jack of his fond memories of playing out in the forest at night with his siblings at their cabin. “At least the stars are out…” Jack said quietly, sighing with nostalgia.

 

The laughter appeared again, and Jack rolled his eyes, somehow catching onto how the voice was making fun of him for thinking about his childhood.

 

“You know,” Jack said, startling slightly at how loud his own voice seemed in the night. “I have nothing to call you. Do you even have a name?”

 

He went out on a limb by acknowledging the voice as a separate entity within him, and Jack had been expecting some kind of a reply. Yet all he received was silence.

 

Jack scoffed. _“Now_ you choose to be quiet.”

 

By some miracle Jack made it to town as the sun began to rise, and he heaved a sigh of relief finding it to be Athlone. Just another half hour or so of walking and he’d be home.

 

He continued on, this time being forced to use the sidewalk out in the open, no longer having the protection of the forest for cover. Yet it was still late– _early –_ enough that not many cars were out. He wondered what he’d look like to any of the drivers if they passed him by, wandering around with mud caked onto his feet and a distinctly red substance covering the entirety of his forearms.

 

Jack snorted to himself. “They would  _ definitely _ think I’m a crazy person or something.”

 

_And what if you are?_

 

“Maybe,” Jack agreed, and him replying to the voice in his head was proof enough of that.

 

To his surprise, the voice laughed at that. It wasn’t the mocking kind of menacing laughter it was normally, this sounded more genuinely _amused_ than anything.

 

Finally Jack made it to his apartment as the sun breached the skyline, patting his pockets automatically for his keys and swearing when he remembered he had nothing on him.

 

_Just check the damn door already._

 

Jack raised his brow at the voice, it sounding annoyed this time as though Jack were stupid for not going straight to the door. With a shrug, Jack gripped and twisted the handle, the door opening easily.

 

_See?_

 

Jack scoffed, heading inside and locking the door behind him. He leaned against it briefly, rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. He was sore and beyond tired, having been wandering out in the cold for who knows how long.

 

He glanced down to his arms and feet again with a grimace, deciding on a quick shower first and foremost. He passed a clock on the way up the stairs, the time reading 5:07 AM, and Jack figured he’d have enough time to shower and take a nap before he’d begin his day properly. He stepped over the shattered coffee mug on the stairs, reminding himself to clean that up at some point before he hurt himself.

 

Just as Jack was about to enter his bathroom, he hesitated. He remembered the weird thing with his reflection in the mirror. Would it happen again?

 

“Only one way to find out,” Jack muttered, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MARK TO FINALLY APPEAR NEXT CHAPTER!! (finally lmao)  
> Follow me on the [tumble](http://fawnsean.tumblr.com/) for updates and septiplier and shit


	5. Moonage Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has been having some weird dreams. He decides to name the voice Anti.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter? Longer chapter.  
> [Song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpMO3tSe8YQ)
> 
> _Anti talks like this._  
>  _'Jack thinks like this.'_  
>  _"Voices in dreams are like this."_

 

_“I'm tellin’ ya. It's not going to- to fockin’ work.”_

 

_“It will! I- I swear to ya!”_

 

_“No, it won't. And ya know why?”_

 

_“Why’s that?”_

 

_“Because there's no such thing as demons.”_

 

Jack shot up in bed with a start, holding his head as a pounding headache hit him. He frowned, grabbing his phone and switching off his ringing alarm, trying to recall his strange dream. It had felt so real, like it was a conversation Jack had had at some point before.

 

_Have you forgotten? Or are you just too afraid to remember?_

 

“What the fock are ya on about now,” Jack grumbled to the voice, accent coming out thick with exhaustion.

 

In lieu of proper reply, the voice laughed in response. Seemed like that was all it ever did.

 

Jack sighed, already beginning to come to terms with the fact that he was going batshit crazy. Someone who was tired or stressed or overworked wouldn't be plagued with a persistent and annoying voice in their head as Jack was. He still had no idea what started all of this.

 

Rather than going downstairs to get some breakfast, Jack pulled his laptop out and decided to do some research.

 

The closest thing Google could come up with was dissociative identity disorder, but the more Jack read through the list of symptoms and the way the disorder presented itself, the more sure Jack became that he didn’t have the disorder. While it could be easy to label himself as a person with DID, he didn't quite fit all the criteria. He certainly never had any childhood trauma or sexual abuse to speak of, which seemed to be a common factor among many diagnosed with DID.

 

“Besides, I don't have ‘two or more distinct personality states’,” Jack said, quoting directly from the website.

 

Gaps in memory seemed to be a thing with DID individuals, a thing which Jack had experienced the night before. But something about the voice being an alter seemed off to him, so he wasn't sure if the disorder was something he actually had. The voice seemed like more than just a separate personality or identity stemming from a mental disorder. It felt like an entirely separate being inside him, one with seemingly less than good intentions.

 

Still, his time on his laptop had been pretty educational, and Jack felt a bit more comfortable knowing that if he _was_ in fact developing DID, that there were many different chats and forums he could go to for anonymous help. He wouldn't be alone.

 

The voice had been unusually silent since first waking up, and Jack was thankful for the moment to gather himself and his thoughts. Feeling a bit better, Jack headed downstairs, cleaning up his mess of broken coffee mug on the way. He made some new coffee, then went straight up to his recording room, deciding to be productive.

 

Logging on his desktop, Jack noticed a Skype notification. He clicked on it, expecting it to be Robin, but was pleasantly surprised when he saw it was Mark.

 

_Markibutt: Wanna Skype later?_

 

Jack grinned, typing out a quick reply of _‘yes!’_ as he now had something to look forward to later on in the day.

 

He got his edited videos from Robin, queued them to upload, and then set about recording his next videos. Mentally, Jack was feeling much better. Following through with his recording routine was helping to return a touch of normalcy, something Jack craved after the last few days of utter confusion and stress.

 

Somehow, Jack had managed to record his videos in rather good time, and after he sent off the clips to Robin, he sat at his desk quietly, wondering what to do next.

 

He entertained the thought of getting a head start on the next day’s videos, but Robin’s worried face flashed through Jack’s mind from their conversation the night before. After a moment of deliberation, Jack grabbed his phone to schedule a doctor’s appointment for his head injury. He hoped it was nothing, but with all his recent dizzy spells he certainly couldn't be too careful.

 

With an appointment set for the next afternoon, Jack set his phone back down and idly tapped his fingers on his desk.

 

“Maybe I should check the shitstorm of comments, those should be rolling in right about now,” Jack mumbled, realizing that the fans would no doubt be worried about Jack’s fucked up face in his video.

 

He clicked over to Tumblr, and sure enough, his most recent inbox messages were all along the lines of: _“jack are you okay?! you look like you got in a bad bar fight.”_ or _“jack if you need to take a break we are here for you”_ or even _“lol damn jack does your boyfriend beat you up”_ among many others _._ The last one got a self deprecating chuckle out of him.

 

He only bothered replying to the first and second one, assuring that _yes_ he was fine and _no_ he didn't need to take a break.

 

Now with nothing in particular to do, _again,_ Jack’s mind wandered to thinking about the voice inside him. He scrolled through Tumblr, and snorted when he saw a fanart of ‘Antisepticeye’.

 

“Is that what I should call you then? Anti?” Jack joked aloud. It was a kind of fucked up thing to say, but considering the circumstances, Jack figured that calling the voice Anti wouldn’t be the worst thing he could do. After all, Antisepticeye had started out as Jack’s evil other half. Almost seemed like calling it Anti was fitting.

 

The voice, or Anti, as Jack was settling on calling it, didn't reply. Somehow Jack got the feeling it was pleased on being given a name.

 

Jack sighed, looking off in the distance. “What am I doing? Acting like I'm fucking naming a pet.”

 

After some amount of time Jack found himself dozing off. There were voices again, ones he knew, including his, but couldn't quite place the others, and bright flashes of blurry color danced behind his eyelids. He couldn't make out what was going on, but everything felt so damn _familiar._

 

_“Just do it! It was your idea!”_

 

_“I know, but what if something actually happens?”_

 

_“That's what you're hoping for though, right?”_

 

_“Yeah, just do it already! Fockin’ pussy.”_

 

_“Fine, fine, I will.”_

 

Jack startled as his desktop played the tune of a Skype call, and Jack snapped out of his daydream.

 

_Daydream? It's not quite day though now, is it._

 

Jack frowned at Anti’s voice, turning to the window and sighing out in disbelief when he saw it was dark out. He must have been more tired than he thought. His stomach grumbled in neglect and Jack tugged at his shirt absently.

 

Finally the repetitive jingle registered in his mind, and Jack hurriedly switched to Skype, noting for a brief moment that he had 10 unread messages from Mark, and it was Mark who was currently calling him. Jack quickly accepted the call.

 

“Damn, Jack, you look like you got fucked up.” Mark said almost immediately when the screen loaded.

 

“Yeah, well, falling down the stairs will usually do that to you,” Jack laughed, running a hand through his hair nervously.

 

“No kidding,” Mark deadpanned.

 

Jack could tell that Mark was holding back. Clearly he was wanting to have a serious conversation with Jack, and the way Mark’s eyebrows were drawn together in the center and the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes only helped prove to Jack his true concern. It was only a matter of time before Mark got to the heart of their conversation.

 

He felt terrible for making his friend worry so much, but there was nothing he could do. Jack himself didn't quite know what was happening, and that was scary. But it was something he couldn't involve his friends in, that much he knew for certain.

 

Mark gave him an uncertain smile. “I tried messaging you a bunch earlier, but you wouldn't answer.”

 

Jack felt his stomach twist in knots. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I fell asleep or something.” Jack didn't need to mention to the other that he had passed out at his desk for nearly seven hours prior to the call.

 

Mark's eyes hardened, and Jack could tell he was in for it now. “Are you taking care of yourself okay? You look like you haven't slept or showered properly in days. And what about food? Are you eating alright?”

 

Jack sighed, a small smile gracing his lips. It was just like Mark to go full mother hen mode on his friends when they were having rough times.

 

_Just lie to him already. Get him off your back._

 

Jack frowned at Anti’s suggestion. He really didn't feel like lying to the other. It almost seemed like too much effort to hold up an act that fake. While he didn't really want to worry his friend even more than he already had, Jack would much rather tell the truth than lie.

 

“Not really, I guess. Had a rough night last night and couldn't sleep well as a result.” Jack scratched the back of his head idly, Mark’s frown deepening as he spoke. “I guess I haven’t really eaten all day either.”

 

“What happened?”

 

 _‘Oh, nothing. Just found myself in the woods in the middle of the night covered in blood is all. It's fine though, only took me till sunrise to walk home.’_ Jack snorted, and the other raised a brow questioningly. He definitely couldn't say that to Mark.

 

“Nothing really,” he said instead, looking off to the side as Anti laughed at him yet again. The fucker. Some part of him realized that naming the voice like he was wasn't really a good idea, but Jack just felt better having something to refer to it by, rather than just ‘the voice’ or ‘it’.

 

Mark looked at Jack through the screen expectantly, and Jack realized with an internal swear that Mark had asked something that completely flew over Jack’s head.

 

“I'm sorry, what was that again?” Jack asked, cringing at his nervous voice crack.

 

“I said, do you need a break or something? Because I could fly you over to LA for a couple days or a week and we could hang out, or I could come over to Ireland, or-”

 

“No!” Jack shouted, and after a tense silent moment realized how loud he had just been. “No, I uh. Fuck. Sorry. I'm just, I'm just going through a lot right now…” Jack trailed off awkwardly, feeling his face heat up with how sudden his outburst was. He just couldn't be around people for the time being. Whatever was going on with Anti, Jack needed to figure it all out for himself.

 

“Alright…” Mark murmured, and then the two were cast in silence yet again. Jack couldn't quite meet Mark’s eyes again until he spoke again. “I'm just worried, is all.”

 

“I know,” Jack sighed, rubbing his temples at an oncoming headache. “And I'm sorry for that.”

 

“...But?” Mark prompted after a beat of hesitation.

 

Jack gave him a tight lipped smile. “But this is something I need to take care of on my own.”

 

Mark’s frown only seemed to deepen. “If you say so.” The two were left with nothing but silence yet again, static from the call humming through his speakers. “Just… let me know if there's anything I can do, I guess.”

 

This time when Jack smiled it was much more real. “Of course.”

 

“I'll let you go now,” Mark said with a small, worried smile. “Go get some food. And then sleep.”

 

“Yes, mother,” Jack joked, and the two shared a brief laugh. “I'll talk to you later, then.”

 

“Alright, take care of yourself.”

 

And with the click of a button Mark’s face disappeared from view, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.

 

_Nice job getting rid of him._

 

Anti’s sudden voice gave him a start. “What do you mean?”

 

Ominous lighter rattled around in his head as Anti finally voiced a reply.

 

_I don't need any interruptions._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gdi anti what r u planing
> 
> subscrieb to me on me [tumbl](http://fawnsean.tumblr.com/)


	6. Our Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack begins to recall more memories, and as time passes he grows more used to Anti's presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkfa0HaZmsw&list=PL81flYQm0Nb1rENSeYX0tUzahQ2hQyT_i&index=4)

 

_“Come on, just one!”_

 

It was a feminine voice, one Jack had just been acquainted to that night. If he focused, her image in his dream became sharper. Dream? Was it a dream?

 

They were in a club. They being Jack, his close friend Signe, and several other of her friends. Signe had been wanting to get Jack out of the house for a while, so she and her friends took him to the city club for ‘girl’s night’.

 

 _“Just take it. Everyone is.”_ The woman’s voice was sickeningly sweet. Jack recalled how she slipped the tiny square into his hand, curling her manicured fingers over his as she handed over the drug.

 

He had searched the crowd for Signe then, more than a little uncomfortable that one of her friends was trying to get him to use acid. Or well, Jack guessed it was acid. It looked like it, but different somehow. Jack was never really good with drugs, having had some bad experiences with them back in college. He hadn’t tried anything since.

 

 _“No, that’s okay.”_ Jack told her, and instead of just telling her like Jack would talk to people in dreams he actually _remembered_ telling her no. Jack gradually became more aware that _this was not a dream._ He knew it was real, a memory of some kind, and Jack realized that it had happened about a week or so before Anti showed up. Jack watched as his past self turned over their joined hands and dropped the small drug– whatever it was –back into her open palm. _“Not interested.”_

 

She’d been upset at that. _“Lighten up!”_ Her previously sweet face was contorted in a sneer as she shoved the strange drug between his lips.

 

Startled, Jack jerked away, but it was too late. The paper like material began to dissolve on his tongue. Jack gave the girl– Sarah, the name was coming back to him  –a hard look before he stormed off in search of Signe. The night definitely wasn’t going how he expected it to.

 

He eventually found her on the other side of the bar, chatting up a cute girl. _“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Signe, can we leave?”_

 

Signe looked a bit put off yet worried at the same time. _“Everything okay, Seán?”_

 

 _“No,”_ Jack had whined. _“Everything’s not okay! Sarah just gave me something weird and I just wanna go home.”_

 

Signe sighed out at that, turning to the other girl with regret. _“Sorry, but I gotta go.”_ She had then turned her attention back to Jack. _“Sorry about Sarah. I should have warned you about her.”_

 

Jack had a snarky reply ready on his tongue but as he turned to the crowd again, everything seemed to slow down. The flashing lights, bright and multicolored, danced across the room and were so _fascinating._ Like a lightsaber battle in real life. The pounding music seemed muted, like Jack was listening to it underwater. And the people… Well, the people had fish faces for heads.

 

There was pressure on his arm, and Jack turned to Signe with a grin.

 

 _“Are you okay?”_ Even in his altered state, Jack could see the worry clear as day on her fish face.

 

_“Just fine.”_

 

When Jack came to he was shocked to find himself outside, walking down the street.

 

The last thing he remembered was sitting in his doctor’s office in the early morning, awaiting the results of the CT scan they’d taken on his head.

 

Now, Jack was out on the street. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the area; he was close to home. And thankfully he had shoes this time. Plastic bags from his local hardware store weighed down his hands, and Jack looked to them in confusion.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Jack said aloud, a bit peeved. “You take over my body at times and I have no idea what’s going on during said times.”

 

_Yes._

 

“And you use this time to go _shopping?”_

 

Anti let out a sigh. _These items are necessary._

 

“I’ll bite,” Jack murmured as he continued down the street to their– _his_ home. “Necessary for what, exactly?”

 

When Anti didn’t reply Jack grumbled in frustration. He didn’t like not being in control of his own body. And whoever, or _what_ ever Anti was, he wasn’t doing Jack any favors by keeping him in the dark.

 

And while Anti had been in control this time, Jack had begun to recall a strange memory from a couple weeks ago. He’d been pretty bummed out at the time, feeling disconnected from his friends and his lack of contact with them since most lived in different countries, so Signe had decided to remedy the situation with a girls night out. Jack barely remembered the night, now realizing he had been on some weird drugs in addition to whatever he had drunken that night.

 

He thought back to his odd dreams from the night before, all the strange yet familiar voices. One of them definitely belonged to Signe. The other to Sarah. Slowly he was piecing together what had happened, but the more Jack tried to consciously think about that night, the more the memories seemed to slip away.

 

“What are you, anyways?” Jack asked, his apartment coming up in view down the road.

 

He’d half expected to be met with silence, after all, Anti rarely answered any of his questions. Yet Anti’s gravelly voice surprised him as he replied. _It should be obvious by now._

 

“Uh, no? It really isn’t,” Jack snarked back.

 

Anti went silent again. He arrived at his apartment, unlocking the door and throwing the bags of whatever the hell Anti had bought to the side. One of the bags landed with a metallic thump, and Jack turned to it, interest piqued.

 

“If you don’t tell me, then I’m going to go through everything you bought.”

 

To his disappointment, Anti laughed. _Go ahead._

 

“Well. That kinda takes the fun out of it,” Jack mumbled, leaving the bags by the entrance and heading to the kitchen instead to make himself some food.

 

* * *

 

 

Since then, Jack had been having the blackouts much more frequently than he would like to admit. The forest incident was the start of it all, and ever since Jack often found himself with lapses in memory, wherein Anti would take over and do who knows what with his body. Thankfully, the incidents didn’t seem as terrifying or dramatic as waking up in the dark covered in blood.

 

Sometimes the blackouts were so small and inconsequential that it was easier for Jack to pretend that they never happened in the first place. He’d lose a few minutes at most, nothing he considered too significant to waste time worrying about.

 

It happened once while Jack was recording, but since it was only for a few seconds Jack had brushed it off and went ahead to send the footage to Robin. That was when he learned something new.

 

Robin had called him up a bit later, saying in a surprised tone, “I didn’t know you wanted to do an Anti edit in this video!”

 

“Oh,” Jack replied dumbly, trying to keep the shock from his voice. He couldn’t properly question the other without making Robin suspicious. “Um, yeah.”

 

“The editing you did looks really good too,” Robin remarked, clearly impressed. “How long did it take you to do?”

 

“Well, ya know,” Jack shrugged, still in the dark on what the hell Robin was even on about. “I had some extra free time, so I figured I might as well try my hand at the editing and see what it’s like.”

 

Robin and him talked for a bit after that, well, Robin mostly did the talking as Jack sat there numbly and tried to listen before Robin finally excused himself to go work on more editing. Only then did Jack snap out of it and pull up the footage he had sent Robin earlier that morning. Not sure what he was looking for, Jack played his facecam video and started the hour long clip from the beginning.

 

About halfway through Jack found exactly what Robin was talking about.

 

The audio fizzled as the video distorted, taking on an old VHS like grainy layer. It looked to Jack like something straight out of _The Ring._ The color of the video took on a dark green hue, much like the edits Robin did for the Antisepticeye character. As Jack turned Anti on the recording, Anti turned directly to the camera, gave an unsettling smile, and threw back his head as he let out a bone-chilling laugh.

 

The video returned to normal just as quickly as it had turned creepy, and Jack paused the footage with a sigh.

 

“So,” Jack mused aloud, since it had become obvious that Anti couldn’t directly hear his thoughts. “Apparently you can distort recordings of yourself.”

 

 _Apparently, yes,_ Anti replied with a snort. _Makes it much more convenient for you where the fans are concerned, no?_

 

And _damn it_ Anti had him there. Jack still couldn’t believe that this being inside him had managed to manifest in such a way as to become so like his fictional, evil alter ego. It once more made him question if any of it were even real, or if he was really having some kind of psychotic break from reality to create a persona within him to match up to the fan-made Antisepticeye.

 

It was hard not to believe that he was losing his mind sometimes.

 

The times Jack would wake up in a completely different location were fewer in number than his short blackouts, but these disconnects were much more prevalent. Hours would pass since the last thing he could remember. It would take him much too long to figure out his whereabouts and how to get back home.

 

Thankfully, Anti didn’t seem to be leaving him in any more compromising positions as the first time. The new places Jack would find himself in were much less scary and were instead borderline mundane, though he still worried about a repeat of the forest incident.

 

He still remembers the time when he came to again with an odd, throbbing pain in his mouth. Jack was luckily home, and quickly rushed to his mirror and opened his mouth, letting out a noise of surprise when he recognized the metal bar through his tongue as a new piercing Anti had gotten them. He’d been half tempted to take it out– his tongue was swelling uncomfortably from the new piercing –but Jack merely shrugged and chalked it up to Anti wanting to express himself. It was better than waking up in a forest covered in blood, after all.

 

Another time Jack found himself at the town market in the checkout line, basket full of goods in hand. He blinked a few times in surprise before pulling out his phone and pretending to be on call with someone so he could talk with Anti.

 

“Really?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Why am I doing your groceries again?”

 

_It’s vital stuff._

 

“Really,” Jack repeated with no small amount of sass as he rifled through the basket. “There’s just a lot of raw meat in here. What the hell do you need all this for?”

 

Anti let out an aggravated sigh. _Just buy it._

 

Jack grumbled but relented, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and placing the basket on the conveyer belt as he moved up in line. He didn’t know what Anti was up to, but Jack was annoyed that Anti was making him do all this weird shit.

 

 _‘At least it’s better than the alternative,’_ Jack reminded himself. While Anti clearly had some kind of agenda, at least he wasn’t threatening Jack anymore or stranding him miles from town. Going shopping for some meat, Jack could definitely handle.

 

His odd memory flashes became fewer in number, and Jack had an inkling that Anti had something to do with it. He wasn’t sure how, and he had no true evidence that Anti was trying to tamper with or suppress his memories, but somehow Jack could just _feel_ it. Anti was settling in nicely and making himself comfortable, and there was nothing Jack could really do but accept it.

 

He hadn’t really had much time to talk with his online friends, either, though that was mostly by choice. Anti seemed adamant in Jack keeping quiet and staying away from his friends, and Jack listened to him.

 

_They won’t understand. They’ll write us off as crazy._

 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed easily with a sigh. He knew that if he tried to tell anyone they’d be labelled mad. Anti was something that he needed to figure out how to handle on his own.

 

He did feel bad for leaving his friends hanging, but it was for the best. Signe showed up at his apartment once, worried, but Jack had shooed her away, Anti’s voice encouraging him within his mind and praising him when she reluctantly left. Even Mark, who's worried messages increased in number, received no reply or explanation for the distance. The only person Jack kept in any kind of contact with was Robin, though only for editing reasons. Any time Robin tried to call him just to talk, Jack would make up some kind of excuse for why he couldn’t.

 

Online, Jack had much less of a presence as well. He all but stopped his social media usage, save for his consistent uploads. Anti encouraged Jack to stay away from his social life, and without thinking too much about it Jack agreed. Everyone would be better off in the dark about what was really happening behind the scenes.

 

He wondered when all of this became the new normal to him.

 

Perhaps he grew more used to Anti’s presence as the aches and pains in his body faded away. Jack thankfully found out he did not have a concussion from his doctor’s appointment, though his doctor did prescribe him some medicine for headaches that seemed to plague Jack since Anti had awoken within him. As time passed the visible bruises on his face healed from his fall, and Jack began to feel much more like himself.

 

Yet Anti remained.

 

And if anything, he seemed to be getting stronger.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More explanations to come soon, I promise. 
> 
> Also I promise that Mark will have a more vital part soon!


	7. Empty Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird shit continues to happen thanks to Anti. Jack is too tired to really care. Mark is still worried.

 

Jack gradually fell into a routine with Anti.

 

He would wake up, down a full pot of coffee, and immediately get to recording the footage to send to Robin. His friend seemed to reluctantly accept the new reclusive Jack after a while, asking him less and less if he wanted to talk or Skype. It reached the point where Jack contacted him for editing purposes alone. _‘It’s safer this way,’_ Jack reminded himself.

 

Signe showed up at his apartment a few more times, banging on the door and calling his name worriedly. Jack simply turned off the lights and pretended not to be home.

 

 _It’s better this way,_ Anti’s firm voice would insist as the two waited for Signe to leave. Jack found himself nodding to his words.

 

Others still tried to message him. Mark, namely, didn’t seem to quit. Jack read them all, and unlike Robin and the others, Mark’s text were surprisingly consistent, not decreasing in number as time went by. There was a sense to urgency to them that Jack could perceive, but he eventually stopped caring as the days passed. There was nothing that Mark could do to help him.

 

Anti was something Jack needed to figure out for himself, and the other definitely wasn’t making it easy on him.

 

Jack had a feeling that Anti purposely fronted to be annoying when Jack was actually trying to get work done. Particularly during his recordings. Anti would rear his ugly head while Jack would be in the middle of filming, causing more odd glitches in the film. Robin kept questioning why Jack was making so many ‘Antisepticeye’ edits on his own.

 

Luckily, Anti eventually promised to leave him alone in the mornings and afternoons so Jack could record and get his videos up on time.

 

The only caveat was that Anti got free range at night.

 

Without giving it much thought, Jack agreed.

 

Any time Jack found himself questioning Anti, a small part of him arguing that it was _dangerous_ and he shouldn’t be allowing Anti to take control so easily, Anti wouldn’t hesitate to remind him the leverage he had over Jack. Anti could make himself known to an audience of literally _millions._ Jack didn’t want that. That small voice of reason ended up getting stamped out pretty quick, and all Jack could do was agree with Anti in the end.

 

Jack was allowed to own the mornings and afternoons, though evenings were Anti’s alone. Even if Anti wasn’t bothering him too much in the day anymore, letting him have the night utterly and truly _exhausted_ Jack. His other physical ailments healed with time, but the constant groggy feeling persisted. He found himself constantly tired and yawning frequently, even during recordings. He asked Robin to edit that stuff out, not wanting to worry his fanbase too much.

 

Though his efforts seemed to be in vain. On every upload of a video, there would literally be hundreds of comments solely on concern for Jack’s wellbeing. He ignored them. Even if he was more tired than usual, he did his best to maintain the Jacksepticeye attitude.

 

Since Anti stopped taking control during the day, Jack rarely had more weird incident repeats like waking up in the forest or town stores.

 

One thing in particular that kind of freaked Jack out happened when he was trying to chop some vegetables for lunch. He wasn’t paying too much attention, eyes drooping from exhaustion but snapping open when his hand slipped, slicing the skin on his thumb nearly to the bone. Jack hissed in pain, snapping fully awake from his zombie-like stupor, quickly running his hand under the tap and rinsing out the cut.

 

 _Dumbass,_ Anti’s voice rang in his mind, scoffing at Jack’s idiocy.

 

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, wincing as the water hit and stung his wound. Jack watched idly as the reddened water swirled around in the sink before disappearing down the drain. He continued to watch until the water ran clean, no more blood mixing with it. Which surprisingly didn’t take too long.

 

Jack blinked in confusion, removing his hand from under the stream and checking his cut. The wound, which was pretty deep initially, looked much more shallow and pink, like it was already in the process of healing.

 

“What the fuck, Anti?” Jack questioned with a sigh.

 

 _Simple shit like this won’t take us long to heal,_ Anti replied, offering, as usual, no explanation whatsoever.

 

Jack let out a dry chuckle. “Are we some kind of superhuman now?”

 

Anti snorted. _You’re less human now than anything, but call it whatever you’d like._

 

“That’s reassuring,” Jack quipped, feeling a bit unsettled at whatever the hell Anti was on about. Jack was a bit surprised that Anti was being so talkative in the first place, and not in a rude way for once. He shrugged, brushing it off to the other just being in a rare good mood. When he went to get the first aid kit in the bathroom to get a band-aid, Anti interrupted him with an irritated sigh.

 

_That’s just a waste of time._

 

Jack frowned, but realized Anti was right. Like usual. The wound was fast healing, no more fresh blood coming seeping out. “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Force of habit, I guess.”

 

Even with the knowledge that they healed quickly, Jack still tried to be more observant to avoid getting hurt. He hadn’t really gotten injured since, but it was an odd anomaly that Jack found himself thinking about for a while, wondering how far he could push his newfound healing ability. Since he wasn’t one for pain, Jack ended up writing it off as a new Anti related quirk they now shared.

 

It was odd, sharing his body with someone. In the beginning it was scary, but now it was more annoying than anything. Jack still had no idea who Anti was or what he wanted, and that worried him. Probably less than it should. Anti seemed to slip once, calling Jack his ‘host’, whatever that meant. Anti had gotten pretty quiet after that, obviously not wanting to say more than he should. Jack rolled his eyes at the other.

 

Anti was weird.

 

He genuinely terrified Jack when he first appeared, but the more used to Anti Jack got, the more he got used to talking with him. He would still mention some off things that made Jack’s skin crawl, like how he threatened Signe, saying _I’m going to dig her fuckin’ eyes out with my goddamn thumbs if you don’t keep her from bothering us._ Needless to say Jack quickly messaged her after one of her visits, asking her not to check in on them anymore.

 

Other than that instance, Jack found himself relatively comfortable with Anti as they fell into their own pattern. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t, but Jack felt compelled to listen to Anti’s advice and follow it. He didn’t necessarily trust the other, but at least Anti kept to his word and didn’t interfere with his recordings or take over during the day time.

 

He had no idea what Anti was up to at night, only that it involved a lot of walking because Jack would often wake up sore, thankfully in their own bed, legs tingling from what seemed like hours of movement. He was curious, of course, but the one time he questioned Anti about it directly, Anti quickly shut him down, saying _mind your own goddamn business, and I’ll fuckin’ mind mine._ Jack could accept that.

 

A couple more weird things happened after the kitchen slicing incident, but they barely fazed Jack anymore. All he could really feel as the days passed was tired.

 

Jack let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple slowly as thought of how much his life changed in the past couple weeks. His phone buzzed on his desk, bringing Jack to the present. He blinked slowly back to awareness, yawning as he reached for his cell. Unsurprisingly, it was a text from Mark.

 

 _Fockin’ hell. Does the guy ever give up?_ Anti grumbled.

 

“He’s just worried,” Jack assured with a tired chuckle.

 

_He should fuck right off._

 

Jack rolled his eyes at the other. Obviously Anti was in a bad mood. “You don’t have to worry about him. Unlike Signe, he’s in America…” Jack trailed off as he read Mark’s message.

 

_“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just fly right over to Ireland to check up on you.”_

 

Jack felt his heartbeat pickup. “Oh god.”

 

 _Are you_ fucking _kidding me?_ Anti yelled, his voice distorting with anger and volume.

 

“I– I don’t,” Jack stammered, nerves making him feel more aware than he had in weeks.

 

 _You better tell him something to get him off our ass, or else,_ Anti growled, and _yep._ There was that casual Anti threat.

 

Jack bit his lip. “I don’t know what to say…”

 

 _Just say you hate him or something. Insult him. Make him never want to see you again._ Jack could practically hear Anti rolling his eyes as though the solution were obvious.

 

“But it’s Mark!” Jack replied, volume raising in panic. “He’s not just gonna accept something like that! I can’t say that shit to him…”

 

 _Then let me,_ Anti said, and before Jack could even protest his consciousness was being shoved behind a dark curtain as Anti took over.

 

 _What the fuck,_ Jack said aloud, and he was shocked as his voice reverberated around him. He was still aware of things, aware of what he could see through his eyes– _their_ eyes, but there was a darkened film over his vision. Jack quickly became aware that the vision was no longer his, it was Anti’s. Anti was in full control, but Jack was somehow still awake and aware. He wondered if that was what it was like for Anti all the time. In the past when Anti took over, Jack would blackout and wake up some time later, memory of that time void. Yet now, Jack could actually _see_ what Anti was doing with their body.

 

That meant that Jack could only watch helplessly as Anti began replying to Mark, typing up a hate-filled message.

 

 _No! Anti, stop!_ Jack shouted uselessly, his own voice echoing as Anti’s usually did.

 

“Why?” Anti sneered, speaking properly from his new position.

 

 _You said you would leave me alone during the day! That was the deal,_ Jack cried.

 

Anti huffed out an annoyed sigh. “You were freaking out. I had to do something.”

 

 _Uh, no you didn’t?_ Jack snarked, surprising himself for back talking Anti for once. _You didn’t ‘need’ to do anything. You’re going against your promise._ Jack tried to push him out, force Anti’s consciousness back as the other had previously done to him. But he couldn’t. Jack wasn’t strong enough.

 

“Fine, fine, whatever. It was only for a second, anyways,” Anti mumbled. “Not like I really messed with much. Besides, I was _nice enough_ to let you see what was happening.”

 

Jack felt an odd pull, pressure where his shoulders would be, and then he was being brought forward. He blinked a few times with surprise, glancing around and finding himself in the driver’s seat of their body once more. He clicked his pierced tongue. “Not cool, Anti.”

 

_Whatever, eat a dick._

 

If it weren’t for the circumstances, Jack would have laughed at Anti’s horribly vulgar and teenage like attitude. Instead, he snatched up his phone just in time to see Mark’s new message.

 

_“Seán, that’s not like you at all. I’m seriously worried. Expect to see me in a couple days.”_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going in a different direction than I originally imagined, but I'll try to add more explanations in the next chappie. Also, ENTER MARK!


	8. Valed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62SQhoEnEuk&index=7&list=RDhkfa0HaZmsw)  
>  i promised some answers but did i just create more questions? kill me lol

 

“Technically,” Jack said quickly, voice timid, “that’s your fault. You  _ can’t _ get mad at me for that.”

 

When Anti didn’t reply, Jack just knew the other was off fuming. However the hell that worked. 

 

He sat back at his desk with a sigh, scratching at his head and yawning again. Jack held his phone loosely in his free hand, still open to Mark’s text. He wasn’t sure exactly when the other was coming, but it would be soon. And what would Jack do when Mark got there? Keep the door shut and refuse him entry like he did Signe?

 

He tried typing out a reply, an apology for Anti’s rude message of:  _ “Because I fucking hate you. Leave me alone. I never want to see you again.”  _ but he ended up just erasing his text halfway through. Jack wasn’t sure if anything he could say at that point would deter Mark in the slightest. 

 

Instead, he clicked his phone screen off and got up, stretching with another yawn. He was exhausted, and even though there was still some day time left, Jack would much rather go take a nap before letting Anti takeover. Jack settled down in his bed with a sigh of relief, curling up in his blankets. His breathing gradually slowed as sleep overtook him.

 

Eventually lights flashed behind his closed lids.

 

_ “Holy shit! Why do ya have this in yer fockin’ car?”  _

 

_ “I thought it would be fun, ya know? Have a sleepover and do some weird shit.” _ The voice was feminine, and Jack placed it as Sarah’s. 

 

_ “Okay, but why do we gotta do it at my place?”  _ Jack knew this voice belonged to him. 

 

When he opened his eyes, Jack was no longer in his bedroom. Instead, he was in the backseat of an old Volkswagen with three other girls. Signe sat to his left, Sarah in the driver’s seat, and some other woman whose name he couldn’t quite place in shotgun. Judging by their clothes, they looked to have just left the club. His surroundings were twisting and distorting around him, random shapes and flashes of color coming from nowhere. 

 

_ ‘This must be the same night,’ _ Jack realized, recalling back to the ‘girl’s night out’ where he had taken some strange drug. 

 

Jack remembered looking out the window, watching as their headlights flashed and illuminated the trees surrounding the road. He blinked hard as the shadows danced against the yellowed light, turning into strange figures resembling tentacles. He remembered turning his attention back to those in the car, wondering how the hell Sarah was even driving in her state.

 

His fingers tightened around a cool, smooth container. He looked down. In his hands was an Ouija board box.

 

Jack woke with a gasp, feeling his heart racing. He hadn’t had a ‘memory dream’ in quite a while, and with just that short clip of a memory, Jack felt like he was on to something.

 

Once he calmed down a bit, Jack realized the room was dark. It was night.

 

“Anti?” he questioned, tone wavering with uncertainty. 

 

There was no reply.

 

Jack frowned. Anti must be in a  _ really  _ bad mood to not only ignore Jack, but to not front during his allotted time. 

 

A quick glance to the clock showed it was just past midnight. Jack had been sleeping for quite a while, though it felt as though he only got a few minutes’ rest at most. He played with his tongue piercing idly, pushing the metal rod around with his tongue as he wondered what to do.

 

All he had been wanting since Anti showed up was for the other to leave. But now that Anti was gone, Jack felt his absence like a punch to the gut. He felt oddly abandoned, even though this was what he knew he wanted. 

 

“I guess I’ll just go back to sleep then,” Jack said aloud, hoping for some sort of response out of the other. All he got was silence. Biting his lip in worry, Jack laid back down, wrapping the blankets around him once more.

 

Almost immediately Jack was taken back to his memory, this time in his apartment with the other girls. Sarah was rummaging through his storage cabinet, pulling out several candles.

 

_ “Oh my god, Sarah! That’s so fockin’ lame!”  _ the unknown girl said with a laugh. Jack recognized her voice, but her name continue to escape him. 

 

_ “I know, I know,”  _ Sarah replied with a chuckle.  _ “Gotta make it realistic though, right?.”  _

 

There was a light pressure on his hand, and Jack turned to see Signe’s worried face. Thankfully she was no longer a fish.  _ “You okay, Seán?” _

 

_ “Fine,”  _ Jack remembered insisting stubbornly. 

 

Signe frowned.  _ “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can leave, call it a night if you want.” _

 

_ “Don’t be a buzzkill, Sin!”  _ the other girl grumbled.

 

_ “Yeah, come on! Seán, you want to do it, right?”  _ Sarah pressed.

 

Jack wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the strange drugs, or a weird combination of the two, but Jack remembered throwing his inhibitions to the wind in that moment.  _ “Yeah, let’s do this.”  _

 

He remembered Sarah’s expression so clearly, grinning at his words as she set up the candles in a circle, pulling out a lighter.  _ “Let’s fockin’ do this shit.”  _

 

When Jack blinked he was back in his bedroom, bright light filtering through his blinds. He still felt exhausted, and Jack groaned when he saw it was just past 7am. 

 

“You still there?” Jack asked, not really expecting a reply.

 

He got exactly what he expected.

 

With a sigh, Jack got out of bed and stretched, heading downstairs to make some coffee. Anti’s sudden disappearance was odd, and if Jack didn’t know better, then he would say he just made the whole thing up and that he really were crazy. 

 

“Nah,” Jack said with a scoff. “You were totally real.”

 

Realizing saying that stuff out loud made him actually sound crazy, Jack groaned. 

 

Figuring he should go about his normal routine, Jack downed some coffee and headed back upstairs. He tried to get in the groove of recording, but he was just so  _ tired.  _ He felt completely run down and groggy and just overall _ exhausted. _ Eventually he shut his camcorder off in frustration, deciding to take a break for the day and upload some stockpiled videos instead. 

 

Despite feeling like he’d crawled right out of a grave, Jack realized with a moment of surprise that this was the most clear his head had been the past couple of weeks. With Anti present, there was always some kind of fog in his mind, but now that seemed to have dissipated somewhat. Now he was questioning every choice he made since Anti showed up.

 

“The fuck…” Jack murmured, running his hands through his toxic green locks and noticing with a grimace that it had been a while since he last showered. He’d been so preoccupied with Anti that he’d forgotten to properly take care of himself.

 

“If I’m not going to record, then I should at least do something useful,” Jack muttered, switching off his equipment and heading towards the bathroom.

 

He paused at the door, glancing at the covered mirror. After the weird painful eye incident, Jack had taken to covering all the mirrors and reflective surfaces in his home. Anti had laughed at him, saying that it wasn’t necessary, and that the original pain from that day was merely Anti testing his control over Jack. Anti’s words did nothing to pacify him.

 

Jack still felt paranoid, and somehow having all the blankets and towels over his mirrors and such made him feel better. If only slightly. 

 

“I guess I won’t need these anymore then.” Jack reached up to grab at the edge of the towel on the mirror, hesitating for a brief moment before yanking the material off. He stared at his reflection in surprise.

 

It was like seeing himself for the first time in weeks, which didn’t make any sense. Jack  _ had  _ seen himself in his recordings, of course. There was no way not to. But the person in those videos looked absolutely  _ nothing  _ like the man in the mirror.

 

The Jack that stared back at him was sickly pale and thin, cheekbones and clavicles much too prominent and practically protruding from his skin. His normally bright blue eyes were dull, his sclerae bloodshot. His hair was a mess of fading green and yellow, greasy and unkempt. Overall, he looked just plain  _ awful.  _

 

“What the fuck?” Jack cried, moving away from the mirror in shock. The figure followed his exact movements, so it was definitely him alright. “How did, when did–”

 

He cut off abruptly as the mirrored image of him glitched slightly, returning to normal less than a second later.

 

“Anti? Anti is that you?” Jack called, voice thick with nerves. “What the fuck is happening?”

 

Then Jack was crying out, crumpling to the floor and clutching at his eye helplessly as the pain from before returned, only intensified. If it felt like a hot rod through his eye before then this was someone pouring molten lava directly into his eye. Jack screamed, tears streaming down his face as he writhed around on the tiled floor, nearly immobilized by the white hot pain shooting through his skull. Jack bit his lip and sobbed openly, never having felt anything so intense or any pain of that magnitude.

 

And then there was darkness. 

 

Jack blinked, but the darkness remained.

 

_ “What the fuck was that?”  _ That was Signe’s voice. She sounded worried.

 

_ “Did you hear that?”  _ Sarah cried. She sounded panicked. 

 

_ “We shouldn’t have done this, this was a horrible idea, Sarah!”  _ That was the other girl. She sounded in distress. 

 

_ “No,”  _ said a voice that was so similar to Jack’s, yet wasn’t. His blood ran cold.  _ “This was perfect. Thank you for letting me in.”  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet u all can guess wha t anti is a tthis point haha


	9. Stretched Linen Over Contorted Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack gets fucked over by Anti. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um yeah. this chapter took a turn for the weird? idk. new rating and tags, please check them carefully before proceeding.

 

When Jack next came to he immediately knew something was wrong. 

 

He blinked slowly to awareness, glancing around the lingering darkness in distress as he realized he was back behind the curtain. 

 

Anti was in full control.

 

As Jack got more used to his surroundings, he could make out the general shapes of furniture in his room, slightly tinted by a film-like layer as he watched through Anti’s eyes. The ceiling lights were out in the bedroom, the only source of light being the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. There was another figure in the room, a man, but Jack couldn't make him out from how dimly lit his room was.

 

_ Anti, what’s happening,  _ Jack called, his own trembling voice echoing the odd space around him. 

 

Rather than replying, Anti let out a stuttered moan as the other male pushed them down on the bed, climbing atop and eagerly shedding his clothes.

 

Jack’s consciousness reeled at that in shock.  _ Anti, what are you doing? What the fuck is happening?!  _ Jack tried yelling, but he felt an odd push, as though Anti were trying to silence him again. The last thing he saw through Anti’s eyes was the demon spreading their bare legs as the unknown male settled himself in between them before he was cast once more into an unconscious void.

 

“Anti!”

 

Jack shot up in bed with a start, shoulders trembling as he took heaving breaths. 

 

He was in his room, back in control. It was morning, sunlight nearly blinding even in the early hours. He turned to his windows with momentary confusion, noticing his curtains were gone. He gripped onto his bed sheets, frowning when he saw they were a different set than normal. Jack breathed in deep, curling in on himself slightly, trying to grasp what he already knew had happened the night before. And while Jack had gotten used to being sore all over since Anti had shown up, there was a prominent ache to his rear that had Jack choking on a sob.

 

“What the fuck did you do to me, Anti?”

 

_ Nothing I haven’t been doing for a while.  _

 

Jack jolted with a start, not really having expected the other to reply. He sniffled, wiping at his teary eyes with his sleeve. “You’re a demon,” he hissed. “You’re– you’ve lied to me.”

 

_ I’ve told no lies,  _ Anti growled, and Jack shivered at the other’s firm tone.  _ You agreed to let me have free reign during the night, so that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. _

 

“You’re manipulating me,” Jack conceded. “You’ve been influencing me since the beginning. And I’ve been listening”

 

_ Of course, _ Anti assured easily.  _ That’s what I do. _

 

Jack frowned, and the tears began to build once more. “Why did–” he broke off with another sniffle, scrubbing furiously at his face. “Why did you fuck that guy?”

 

_ I needed him for something.  _

 

“For  _ what?” _ Jack yelled abruptly, surprising himself momentarily with his own volume. “What kind of fucked up reason would you have for doing something like  _ that?!” _

 

Anti snorted.  _ You’ll see in due time.  _

 

“What will I see,” Jack snapped angrily. “Why would you even show me something like that in the first place, huh? Why not suppress me like all those other times?”

 

As Anti stayed silent, Jack was left in his room alone, his heavy, uneven breathing being the only sounds around him. He groaned aloud, scratching harshly at his head in frustration and disgust. His entire being felt gross, and knowing that Anti had used his body to mess around with other people made him feel even worse.

 

Jack quickly staggered from his bed, heading straight for the showers, where he turned the heat up as high as it would go, vigorously scrubbing at his pale skin until he was red and raw. The hot water cascading on him stung and burned, but it was enough of a distraction from the ghosted sensations of another’s hand on his body. 

 

He didn’t know when he started crying again, but everything soon became too much for him to process. Jack crumpled to the bottom of his porcelain tub with a sob, tugging at his fading green hair and scratching his skin where he knew another man’s lips had been. There were no other physical marks on his body or evidence from the night before, his ability to heal having long since cleared any of that up. 

 

The steam from the shower was making it hard to breathe and think clearly, and on impulse Jack fled the room, leaving trails of puddles and taking just enough care not to slip around on his wooden floors as he dashed down the stairs. In the kitchen, Jack went immediately for his knife rack, pulling out his longest and sharpest knife and directing the tip of the blade with a shaky hand to his throat.

 

“A-Anti,” he called in a wavering voice. “Why were you so quiet yesterday? What the fuck happened last night? You better give me some goddamn straight answers, Anti. And  _ now. _ ”

 

To his dismay, Anti scoffed.  _ You’re even more of a fucking idiot than I thought.  _

 

Jack tightened his grip on the blade, strengthening his resolve. “We may be able to heal, but how fast does the blood replenish? Can you really keep us from bleeding out, or would you like to try and find out?”

 

When Anti didn’t reply, Jack pressed the knife closer to his throat, the sharp tip digging into his flesh. A mixture of sweat and water dripped down his ivory skin. “What do you want from me? What is your goal?” His heart was racing a mile a minute and Jack felt absolutely  _ deranged _ standing in his kitchen in the nude with a knife to his throat threatening a supposed demon possessing his body. But he  _ needed _ to know. He dug the knife in a bit deeper, hissing as his skin split slightly, a small bead of blood carving a crimson path down his neck. “Start fockin’ talkin’.”

 

_ Enough of this, _ Anti growled suddenly, and Jack felt the all too familiar tug in his consciousness of Anti trying to suppress him again.

 

“Stop!” Jack shouted, mentally trying to fight off the demon the best he could. 

 

But it was no use. Anti was simply too strong. 

 

Before he knew it Jack was shoved to the back of their shared mind, Anti taking control once more.  _ You liar!  _ Jack shouted, still able to see Anti through their eyes.  _ You said you wouldn’t take control during the day anymore!  _ Anti visibly stiffened, and Jack knew that he had struck something within the demon.  _ You fockin’  _ lied  _ to me! _

 

“That agreement is void when the body is in danger,” Anti replied through gritted teeth, as though trying to convince himself of that fact. 

 

The  _ body? I think you mean  _ my  _ body!  _ Jack raged, grasping at threads to at least remain conscious as Anti exerted his control. 

 

Jack could only watch with a growl as Anti licked the blade clean of blood, sliding it neatly back into its slot with the other kitchen knives. The crushing pressure disappeared suddenly, Jack not having to fight to remain conscious.“You really want answers that bad?” Anti drawled, stalking out of the kitchen and grabbing a towel to pat them dry.

 

Jack jolted at Anti’s words, feeling himself calm down slightly from his earlier fit of anger.  _ Yes. I need to know what’s happening.  _

 

“You’re still weak,” Anti sneered, hissing. “You won’t be able to handle the truth.”

 

_ Try me, _ Jack challenged.

 

Anti raked a hand through their still damp hair with a huff. “Fine. Don’t blame me if your consciousness literally implodes.”

 

Jack opened his metaphorical mouth to reply, but he kept silent as he was cast into darkness. At this point, Jack was becoming more and more familiar with different types of darkness, and this one screamed  _ memory  _ to him. There was movement around him, faint yet distinct moaning sounds clicking with him instantly. As his ‘vision’ returned, Jack wasn’t entirely surprised with the image he was met with. Disgusted for sure. 

 

There was a man looming over him, face considerably attractive and contorted with pleasure, mouth open and letting out little pants of exertion. Jack watched on from Anti’s view, cringing as Anti moaned and goaded the man on, wrapping their legs around the man’s sides as he fucked into them, their bed shaking and creaking beneath them. 

 

Jack wanted to speak, to ask Anti why the  _ hell _ he was showing him this memory of the night before, when the scene drastically changed before his eyes.

 

Anti was reaching above them on the bed, hands gripping onto the sheets in apparent pleasure when he snatched a knife from under the pillow, leaning up slightly and slitting the man’s throat with practiced ease. Jack cried out in alarm, but could only watch on with horror as the man blinked in surprise, gurgling and choking on his own blood. He stopped his movements, reaching with trembling hands up to his neck in a feeble attempt to stop the blood from spurting out.

 

Anti let out a merciless laugh, bringing the blade up to his mouth for a taste, cackling in delight. A few seconds later the man collapsed, dropping heavily onto them as blood continued to pour from the gaping wound in his neck. Anti rolled him off with strength Jack didn’t know they had, grabbing a bowl to collect the still oozing blood with an unsettling grin. 

 

There was blood everywhere, a small amount of spray on his curtains, Jack now realizing why they were gone from his windows when he woke. The heavy scent of metal filled the air, blood pooling beneath the body and soaking into the sheets, and it was making a lot more sense why his bed sheets had been swapped out for a different set. 

 

Anti hummed an unknown tune, gently stroking the dead man’s sweaty hair with surprising softness with one hand, the other still cradling the slowly filling bowl. Jack grimaced, feeling his own blood chill from the faux sweetness Anti was showing the man he–  _ they  _ killed. Anti patted the man’s back with mock encouragement, saying  _ “keep going!”  _ with a laugh as the blood flow eventually slowed. When it became apparent that he had been emptied, Anti delicately set the bowl to the side, throwing the pillows off the bed and carelessly wrapping the body in the dirtied sheets as though he’d done something like this before. He folded the stained cloth with ease over the man, tying the ends in a neat little bow with an approving chuckle.

 

‘ _ Nothing I haven’t been doing for a while.’  _ Anti’s words from earlier rang through his mind, and then it dawned on Jack. This definitely wasn’t the first person Anti killed while in control of their body, and it unless Jack could do something to stop him, it wouldn’t be the last.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf am i doing


End file.
